


scar tissue

by catbeans



Series: sometimes there are consequences to physically traumatic events [5]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Lichtenberg Figures, M/M, Trans Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbeans/pseuds/catbeans
Summary: Luke didn't mind scars; they were just signs of wear-and-tear on a body, but they told a story, and the one behind the jagged lines zigzagging across his skin was one he could do without having to think about every time he moved.(works okay as a standalone so you can read this w/out having read the rest of this series)





	scar tissue

**Author's Note:**

> i L O V E the hc of luke having lichtenberg figure scars from the force lightning in rotj im obsessed w them and have not seen them come up a whole lot in fanworks so there ya go.  
> like i said this can work ok as a standalone fic, theres a brief mention of han being chronically ill from the carbonite bc this is in the same timeline but thats about it

Luke was no stranger to scars.

Most were small, just pale lines and spots on his hands and arms from work around the farm or tumbling off the back of a speeder when there weren't any seats left, leaving a jagged scrape down his leg that Beru had had to scrub the sand out of. He was young, and it had faded well enough, only a few speckled scars left over that easily faded into the hair on his legs if he wasn't looking too closely.

He didn't mind them; everyone had scars, and he was lucky to be on Tatooine for almost two decades comparatively unscathed, when countless other people he knew of were left with gnarled burns or bumpy chasms carved into their skin when stitches or real burn cream weren't available.

None of that was any preparation for the first time he undressed after the second Death Star.

He had been too tired to change that night, passing out next to Han almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He had woken up first, feeling grimy and stiff, and he'd carefully made his way out of the room before Han could notice he was gone.

It was a still sort of quiet, the celebrations only dying down a short time before he woke up. The way the silence hung in the air didn't feel quite real after the last few days.

He found some spare clothes, wincing at the metallic screech of the bathroom door sliding shut behind him, but he didn't hear any movement when he pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath for a few seconds until he could be confident Han hadn't woken up.

He left the clothes on the sink, avoiding the mirror after a quick, accidental glance showed the dull circles around his eyes, looking more tired than he wanted to acknowledge feeling. It had been easier to keep going the night before, buzzing with adrenaline and the surprised relief at still being alive, distracted by the drinking and cheering and music, but without that he just felt  _ heavy. _

He twisted the knobs in the ‘fresher until the water spurted on, holding his hand out until it was tolerably warm. He was too exhausted to notice anything different while he pulled his clothes off, wincing at the way his shirt clung to his shoulder before tugging it over his head and dropping it to the floor with his pants.

He mindlessly washed his hair, his arms so tired he had to stop halfway through, leaning against the wall. He soaped up the back of his neck, scrubbing it down his shoulders and his arms--

He stopped with his arm raised, his prosthetic hovering a few inches above it.

His heart skipped a nauseating beat.

He didn't know exactly when his hand started to shake, and then the rest of him too, sliding down to the floor when his knees buckled out from under him.

It felt like he was watching himself through a screen when he looked at his other arm, and then down at his shoulders, his  _ leg, _ craning his neck to try to look at his back.

The day before hit him like a bag of bricks, all those things that had been easier not to think about with everything else going on, all those things he didn't want to think about at all.

His chest felt tight, and with the water running down over him, he didn't realize he was crying until his shoulders shook with a heavy sob.

 

Luke refused to acknowledge it, but that only lasted a couple weeks before he forced himself to go to medical.

The stiff tightness he felt all over that first morning wasn't just from sleeping in a bad position, like he'd tried to convince himself over the next few days; his skin pulled uncomfortably at the edges of the scars, but the spasms he couldn't even try to ignore, not when he had to hold onto his arm to keep it from jerking or when he dropped his lightsaber in the middle of practice, his prosthetic twitching unnervingly until the spasms higher up in his arm died down.

He avoided Han and Leia's questioning when he had to excuse himself to go down to medical, bringing his food to his room when he could only find the time during meal breaks.

He stiffened up when the medical droid said he would be given electrotherapy, relaxing slightly when the machine was wheeled over and the droid explained what that meant.

It would only send a light electrical current into his muscles, not enough to feel like a shock, to try to relax the muscles left stiff and aching from the Force lightning.

He wasn't sure how  _ more _ electricity was supposed to help after-effects from being electrocuted, of all things, but he didn't know what else there was to try.

He was immeasurably thankful for being the only one in medical then, still hesitant to strip out of his shirt for the droid to stick the pads to his skin.

They were cold at first, and however much he consciously knew he wasn't about to be electrocuted again, he couldn't get his heartbeat to slow down while the droid checked that they were all in place.

He had two at the base of his neck, two between his shoulderblades and another two closer to his sides, a few inches below and slightly behind his armpits. He had to remind himself to breathe when the droid turned to switch the machine on, but the relief was immediate even before he was told, “Tell me when it’s as high as you'd like it to go.”

It was a pleasant buzz deep under his skin, and he didn't tell the droid to stop until his shoulders were twitching with each pulse from the machine.

“This cycle lasts thirty minutes,” the droid said, wheeling away before Luke could manage a nod.

His whole body felt like jelly, tingly and loose, the stiffness in his muscles under the worst of the scars melting away, like the pads were sucking out all the tightness.

He felt more relaxed even than when he was asleep, more than he'd felt in ages, and he didn't realize he had actually dozed off until the droid came wheeling back what felt like only a couple minutes later.

Luke was about to ask for another round when the droid told him to come back tomorrow, and for what might have been the first time in his life, he wasn't dreading a medical appointment.

That didn't make it any easier to avoid Han and Leia asking why he kept leaving during lunch.

He was just busy, he'd say, or tired, or had lightsaber repairs to work on; it didn't really seem like they believed him, incredulous glances he caught out of the corner of his eye when they thought he wasn't looking, but they didn't push it, and that was just fine by him.

He decided not to question it until his sleeve slipped up during a briefing, revealing the ends of the bolts down his arm for barely a second before he tugged it back down; he didn't miss the look on Han’s face, pointedly keeping his eyes on the table in front of him to avoid Han’s, and neither of them brought it up again after.

It became easier once Han had his own health issues to worry about, more pressing than a few missed lunches, finally the one to be swapping concerned looks with Leia rather than the other way around.

It stayed easier for a good while, his careful distance from Han enough to keep any questions at bay. He was doing the right thing, he told himself, nothing to do with the scars, and if that meant not having to talk about them--or let anyone but medical droids see them--that was just a convenient bright side to an otherwise crushingly shitty situation.

Han couldn't see the first night Luke finally undressed in front of him, still half-blind from another flare, but he wasn't so lucky the next time a couple days later.

He was careful to keep the lights off.

He knew, eventually, Han had seen them; he had to know they were there from that slip-up with Luke's sleeve, but Luke had felt the way Han’s breath caught in his throat one night, when Luke had forgotten to close the door to his bunk and the faint light filtering in from the hallway cast over his skin before he managed to throw a shoe at the switch to close the door.

Han didn't say anything about it; at first Luke was glad, but as the days went by and Han still hadn't brought it up, it just felt like a weight hanging over him.

He missed the way Han had touched him that first night, and all those nights before he’d left for Dagobah, without the hesitation of not wanting to make Luke uncomfortable; he avoided touching any skin that wasn't smooth and lineless, not leaving any marks the way he used to, and the way Han handled Luke felt like he was handling glass.

It felt like the distance Luke had painstakingly put between them was still there.

It kept him up one night, Han asleep against his side, and as the hours ticked by, he realized this had to stop.

It took another three nights before he managed to work up the nerve to leave the lights on.

Han was walking backwards towards his bunk while Luke kissed him, reluctant to pull away to look where he was going aside from a couple quick glances over his shoulder when they had to go around a corner. Luke nudged Han into the room before Han could reach for the light switch, pushing him down to the bed and standing between his legs. He saw Han’s eyes flick towards the switch when Luke broke the kiss for a second to untuck his shirt, but he didn't say anything, bringing his hands up to Luke's hips.

Luke took a deep breath, ignored the way his hands shook at the hem of his shirt, and he slowly reached up to unbutton it from the top down.

Han tugged Luke closer against him, and he didn't take his eyes away from Luke's face, even when Luke let his shirt slip down his shoulders and tossed it down to the bed. Han tilted his head up when Luke leaned in to kiss him, winding his arms around Luke's waist.

Luke wasn't sure what he wanted right then--the whole point of this was to try to get rid of the tension hanging between them, but Han still wasn’t touching anywhere with scar tissue, and while Luke could have gone without ever acknowledging it, he knew they both had to eventually--

“Please just touch me.”

The words came out before he’d really thought them, and his breath caught in his throat for a second when Han froze, his lips going still against Luke's.

He didn't have much time to worry about it before Han kissed him again with a low groan, dragging his palms over Luke's sides and down around his back. Han yanked Luke down with him to lie flat on the bed, Luke tumbling on top of him.

He had missed how  _ grabby _ Han could be, one hand kneading at Luke's hip while he trailed his other hand down Luke's back, over the thicker scar zigzagging down between his shoulderblades. Luke arched against him with a whimper, the sensation new and unfamiliar, dulled along the lines but achingly sensitive just along the edges.

Luke's breath hitched when Han’s other hand shifted from his hip to his ass, pausing for a fraction of a second when he felt the edge of the scar shooting down below Luke's waistband.

Luke’s heartbeat sped up uncomfortably when he sat up straight, settling on Han’s thighs. He tried not to look at Han directly, sliding his hands from Han's shoulders to the bottom of his shirt; he still didn't miss the way Han looked at him, his eyes skating up from Luke's chest to his face, like he was seeing Luke for the first time again with a twinge of sadness Luke tried to ignore.

Han moved his hands from Luke's hips when Luke pulled Han’s shirt over his head. He tugged Luke down again to kiss him as soon as he'd tossed the shirt away, his hand in Luke's hair while he slid his other hand up Luke's thigh, his thumb not quite brushing over the seam between Luke's legs.

Luke shivered, his hips twitching against Han's. He braced his right arm on the bed, sliding his other hand down Han’s chest, over the faint bumps left along his torso from before being put in the carbonite.

Han hadn't said anything about them, and Luke wasn't about to ask; he'd pieced together as much of that day as he could from Leia and Lando, realizing one night with a tightness in his chest that  _ that _ was what he had felt, back on Dagobah, that flash of searing pain before a feeling of absolute certainty that Han and Leia were going to die.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse if he knew exactly what happened, or left with his own imagination the way he was, his mind bringing him back in slow moments to the way the pebbled burns didn't look too unlike parts of his own scars.

He pushed the thought back as far as he could get it, dipping his head against Han's shoulder so he wouldn't see how Luke had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, willing away the wet sting behind his eyelids before kissing along the curve of Han’s neck.

He felt Han shiver under him, his hand shifting from Luke's thigh to the buttons at the front of his pants.

Han popped the first two buttons open the same time Luke leaned up to kiss him, reluctantly sliding out of Han's lap a second later with a mumbled, “Hang on.”

He had to use his right hand to do most of the work, his natural hand trembling despite how hard he tried to keep it still. Han was frozen for a second, staring at Luke with his bottom lip caught between his teeth before he started wriggling his own pants down his hips.

Han stiffened up when his eyes darted down to Luke's thigh, the jagged line shooting almost all the way to his knee. Luke almost wished Han had just looked away until Han reached out to pull him back to the bed, his hands sliding down to Luke's ass as soon as Luke was settled on top of him again.

He could feel Han’s dick pressed against his belly, the way his breath hitched when Luke shifted above him. Luke slid to the side until he was wedged between Han and the wall, shuffling around until Han was on top of him, propping himself up on his elbows.

Han kissed him slow and soft, still not quite masking the hint of desperation when Luke reached down to palm at his ass with his natural hand. Luke didn't get the chance to reach for his dick before Han shifted his weight onto his left arm, his other hand coming down to Luke's clit.

Luke's head dropped back to the mattress with a gasp, biting back a whine when Han leaned down to kiss along his neck. He couldn't keep quiet when Han pressed two fingers inside him, circling his thumb over Luke's clit and finally,  _ finally _ dragging his teeth over the curve of Luke's shoulder.

Luke's hand flew up to his hair, and Han didn't need any more prompting before lightly biting down, sucking at the tender spot just long enough Luke knew there would be a faint mark left over.

Luke shivered when Han kissed a little higher, mouthing at the sensitive skin just above his clavicle, where a thick, jagged line split into two going down his chest. He felt like he was buzzing, Han’s hand between his legs and his lips over Luke's neck making Luke twitch up against him.

_ “Han,” _ Luke gasped when he curled his fingers, tugging Han up to kiss him. He couldn't keep down a moan when Han slipped a third finger into him, spreading his legs a little wider with a shaky, “Han, please--”

He could almost ignore the twinge along his thigh, the scar pulling tight where it didn't stretch with the skin around it.

Han kissed him again before pulling his hand away, jerking over his dick a couple times before lining himself up with Luke.

Luke let out a deep breath when Han slowly thrust into him, his eyes flickering shut, shivering when Han kissed along his jaw and down to his neck.

He groaned when Han started rocking into him, slow at first before building up to a rhythm that knocked a gasp out of him on each thrust in. He tried to hide a wince when Han’s hips pushed his legs wider, but Han slowed down, propping himself up on his forearms when he came to a stop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just…” Luke leaned up to kiss him, but Han pushed himself up just out of reach.

“You look really uncomfortable,” Han said quietly, almost leaning down to kiss him before Luke winced again.

Han frowned, and Luke's chest felt tight; before he could say anything, Han leaned on one arm, his other hand slipping down Luke's side to his hip, stopping at the thickest part of the scar.

“Do you want to turn over?”

Luke pushed himself up on his elbows to kiss him before Han shifted out of the way for Luke to turn onto his front.

It had been easier to hide a flinch every now and then with the lights off, but Luke felt a relief he hadn't known he'd needed now that he didn't have to.

Han was warm against his back, a solid weight that Luke wanted to pull tight around himself and never leave. He only shifted away for a second to line himself up with Luke again, and Luke had to bite the inside of his cheek to muffle a moan when Han pushed into him, kissing along the back of Luke's neck.

Luke couldn't even bring himself to mind having to change positions when he felt Han’s hips against his ass, deliciously full, losing himself in it as soon as Han started rocking into him without the distracting tug of his scars pulling at his skin.

He could taste copper from biting his lip to try to keep quiet until Han dragged his teeth over the curve of Luke's neck, his mouth dropping open on a moan, desperately pushing back against Han with each slow thrust into him.

He couldn't keep down a whine when Han pressed flat against him, rolling his hips without pulling out. Luke shuddered and arched back against him when Han kissed along the back of his neck, pausing with his lips over one of the scars edging along his spine before following it down, pressing kisses along the jagged line that split off towards Luke's shoulder.

Even the dulled sensation of the scar tissue felt hot and sensitive with Han’s mouth on his skin, and Luke blindly reached back to bring Han’s hand close to his face, gripping just this side of too tight and kissing along his knuckles.

He could feel Han’s breathing speed up, ticklish against the back of his neck, knocking a moan from Luke's chest when he started fucking into him a little faster. He shifted up to kiss the back of Luke's head before bumping his nose against Luke's jaw, and Luke had to prop himself up on his forearms, turning his head for Han to kiss him.

Han broke the kiss a few seconds later with a groan, leaning his forehead against Luke's shoulder; Luke had just enough time before toppling forward against the mattress to wriggle his free hand down, rubbing his fingers in shaky circles over his clit, his eyes flickering shut with a moan when Han rocked into him a little harder.

He’d had to  _ try _ to come before, focusing through the uncomfortable tug of his scars and the anxiety around Han seeing them; the tight heat coiling in his belly and between his legs came on faster without all that, startling a whine out of him when Han pressed flush against his ass. That  _ fullness _ was the last push he needed before he was shaking all over, his hand unsteady against his clit, drawn out while Han kept slowly fucking him through it.

He felt loose and boneless and tingly, almost like he was floating, and he decided he'd be perfectly happy to never move again until Han started to pull back.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly, letting go of Han's hand to reach back to grab at his ass. “Where do you think you're going?”

Han leaned in again with a groan, kissing along Luke's neck while he slowly started fucking him again.

Luke felt like his whole body had turned to jelly; he  _ loved _ when Han fucked him after he'd already come, tingly-sensitive and lax and without any of the desperate itch of trying to get to it.

Luke whined and arched back against him when Han nipped at his neck, sucking another mark into his skin. He propped himself up on his elbows for more leverage, and Luke missed the warm weight on top of him until Han abruptly sped up, kissing along the scars zigzagging along his back.

Luke shakily pushed back to meet Han’s thrusts into him, too far gone to care about the soft sounds bubbling from his throat, gasped swears when Han pushed in deep, and it wasn't long before all Luke could do was lie there shaky and boneless for Han to keep fucking into him.

He could stay there forever, he thought, but Han’s hips started jerking unevenly, his breathing heavy and ragged when he lowered himself flat against Luke's back again, pressing kisses along his shoulder.

He wished he could kiss Han right then, and he was about to turn his head to get Han to kiss him when Han groaned, his arms tight at Luke's side bracketing him in snug and warm.

_ “Oh _ my f--”

Luke couldn't keep quiet when Han bottomed out with a deep moan, shakily grinding into him before his hips stuttered against Luke and he went slack against Luke's back.

He could feel Han catching his breath for a few seconds, lazily kissing each of the vertebrae at the back of his neck.

Luke bit his lip to muffle a whine when Han pulled out, slipping to Luke's side between him and the wall. Luke stiffly rolled onto his back and pulled Han tight against him, feeling slow and sleepy without the annoying tug of his scars and the lingering nervousness around Han seeing them.

Han looped his arm over Luke's waist, nuzzling into the curve of his neck, his hair tickling below Luke's jaw.

His breath caught in his throat for a second when Han ran his fingers over one of the scars on his side, but he let it out with a contented hum when Han pulled himself closer, hooking his arm around Han’s shoulders.

“S’like you've got a storm on you,” Han mumbled, muffled against Luke's skin.

Luke's chest felt uncomfortably tight, not sure how he felt about that, but it melted away as soon as Han leaned up to kiss him.

Han pulled away after a few seconds, his face that soft sort of sleepy Luke only saw at times like this, his expression warm while he leaned in to kiss Luke again before slumping back down against his shoulder.

Luke absently trailed his fingers along Han’s spine, stopping with an apology murmured into his hair when Han shivered against him.

Han shrugged and pressed a quick kiss to Luke's neck, and Luke could feel him smiling, moving his hand from Luke's side to touch his fingertips to the tender spot Luke had almost forgotten about.

“That's a good color on you.”

Luke held his free hand over his face, trying to keep from laughing, but he didn't quite manage it when Han leaned up to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> @hansolosbi dot tumblr!


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